The Truth-Seer (InsertNameHere and Chanti)

Sunny Rayne knew if her grandparents ever had any inkling that people knowing about her gift would cause this, they would never have said a word. They would have gone along with the story Sunny gave the press, that the little girl that came into the gas station she worked at just didn’t look happy. In fact, she had looked afraid. And Sunny had worried and fretted until she just felt she had to call the police…just in case.

But the truth of it was the little girl had been half asleep, eyes blinking shut even as one of the men had carried her into the store. But Sunny had KNOWN the exhausted terror that had hidden in that little baby’s heart, and had KNOWN the viciousness in the hearts of the men with her. She had KNOWN the girl didn’t belong with them. So she had called the police. A kidnapped girl had been rescued. And Sunny had been called a hero.

She brushed it off, but her beaming grandparents had told the truth. That ever since she had been a little girl, eighteen old Sunny could sniff out a lie a mile away. If it hadn’t been such a slow news day the small town paper would have brushed it off. But the news was slow. It didn't hurt that Sunny was a classic beauty, with a tall willowy body graced with gentle feminine curves, sleek blond hair that hung to the small of her back, and a small face with delicate fae-ish features - high arched brow, narrow nose and cheekbones, a sweetly turned pink mouth. A curious reporter set up a series of tests, with Sunny’s grandparents delighted assistance. The result? An astonishing 98% accuracy in Sunny detecting truth from lie. The one time she judged it incorrectly was a day she had been ill. And she had not misjudged so much as passed on judgement.

The results had been published and talked about throughout the region. A bigger newspaper picked it up as a human interest story. They got a huge variety of calls, from fanatical religious people that called her a Satanist, to groovy hippy pagans like her grandparents that thought she was a reincarnated deity, to bitter wives and husbands who wanted to hire her to sniff out their spouse’s lies.

But Dom Grieve didn’t call. He just took.

Oddly enough, it was his innocent, devoutly catholic mother who told him about the story of the girl locals were beginning to call the truth-seer. Grieve lived and worked downtown in the city, and his mother in the quiet little backwater town an hour away knew nothing of his criminal activities. So when he came to visit her as he did every month, she fed him meatloaf and gossiped about her neighbors. It was true, she told him. The girl knew truth from lies, she had seen it with her own eyes when that thieving little sneak Jared Cole had tried to sneak some candy bars out of the store. Sunny had called him back from the door and demanded the candy back. There had been no way for Sunny to see the boy steal the candy, Edna Grieve insisted. The truth-seer was real.

Dom was very interested from the beginning of the tale, but he did not give away his interest. Three nights later though, Sunny’s world exploded in a haze of gunfire and screams. She was helping her grandmother bake cinnamon rolls in the kitchen. Simon and Garfunkle were crooning about feeling groovy on the radio. The faint murmur of the television came from the living room where her grandfather was watching old reruns of America’s Funniest Homemade videos. He had called Grandma in to watch a particularly funny video, when the doorbell rang. Sunny barely registered it. Friendly neighbors were always in and out of the Rayne household.

But the sound of the gunshots ringing out in that peaceful house had her jerking to her feet, then freezing in terror. She heard no sound from her grandfather, but heard her grandmother screaming in pain before another short burst of gunfire silenced the screams.

Sunny ran for the back door, but no sooner had she stumbled out onto the back steps then she felt something pinch her side, and she fell into darkness.

Dom was a very astute man, and very experienced in getting people to do what he wanted. Twenty-four hours after Sunny woke up in the man’s control, he had gotten the identity of an undercover agent in his organization out of her. She hadn’t said anything, but she was a terrible liar, and horrible at deceit. Don’s careful eyes had noticed her alarm when she saw the man, then the sudden furtiveness in her behavior, the hope in her eyes. And he knew he had his mark. He had the man beaten to death in front of the hysterical, sobbing teenager. They had to sedate her to calm her down, but Dom did not regret making her watch. She needed to know just how damned serious he could be.

But people are people, and people talk. Word spread within hours through the underground criminal network of Dom’s new toy, and what she was capable of doing. It was less than twenty-four hours later that gunshots again broke out in Dom’s mansion where she was being kept in a locked, windowless bedroom. Her two guards immediately burst in and grabbed her. She fought them, screaming, certain she was to be murdered. They sedated her again with a quick injection, dragging her unconscious form outside to hustle her into the underground garage and away from the attackers.
That was not to be. The guards were intercepted, the unconscious girl spirited away by yet another group of dark shadowy men. A pawn, captured in play.

"She just woke up" could be heared through the door, as well as someone using the knob to open it.
Two different footsteps and a new voice saying "it's ok Francis. You can leave. I doubt she'll pose any trouble".
The voice was calm, a tiny little bit sarcastic but a lot more confident.

The man named Francis had grabbed a chair as he said "yes sir" and placed the chair near the second man, th eone in command who answered with some kindness in his voice "thank you Francis". it was the tone a fatherly figure employed or, more exactly, someone who had long been loyally served by another human being employed. Much like one woudl do with a buttler who became a part of the family for example.

That man was dressed in a black business suit. Sharp with a bit of excentricity in its red shirt. He was about 6, athletic but not bodybuilded. Muscles grown out of necessity and a healthy lifestyle more than intensive training.
Black eyes and short unnaturally white hair giving him the look of an old general from the Roman empire.

He sat on the chair and looked at Sunny who had been placed on a comfortable bed in what could be described as a mansion with spanish like features.

"you must be very confused" he said "and I'm affraid simplicity will now be forever lacking in your life Mss Rayne. My name is Oscar Valsaint and you probably never have heard of me, which is good for I'm walking a path that should have been miles away from your own but since fate brought you into my world, who am I to go against the tide?" he paused and smiled to build a momentum then carried on.

"I'll be honest with you and as traight forward as possible. You now have two choices. You can ask me to bring you back to your grand parents and stay out of your life. It's something I'm prepared to do but my... rivals, for lack of a better word, people like Dom Grieve who kidnapped you twenty four hours ago, will not leave you be. They'll find you again, they'll kidnap you again, probably use your relatives to blackmail you without telling you how cruely they will have already tortured and killed them. They will not stop at anything to get to you and profit from your gift and they will never think twice about it because they have already walked too far away from humanity. And if you ever find the courage to refuse and fight them, they'll show you they only need your talent, which doesn't necessarily include your whole physical integrity. If they find out you don't need your limbs or eyes to see through people, theyw ill not hesitate to bloody separate them from your body. Just to make a point."
He paused again and stood up to take a look through the only window, a very large one. He moved the curtains aside, letting the sun in and showing off he wasn't affraid to reveal his location. Armed men could be seen froma far, making sure no one would try to snipe the window.

"this, was your first choice. Your second one is to embrace the lesser evil. I will not insult your intelligence and paint myself as a saint but I do have a vision. An endgame. And you could be part of it."

He turned to face her again and kept going "you see, this world is... being led astray to say the least. Its leaders are corrupt and bathing in it, its media blind us with celebrity wedding and stupidity, new ways to rule, kill and exploit are invented every day." His left hand turned into a fist and he noticed it and quickly relieved it.

"It has to stop. It has to be stopped and changed. But a mutation of this scale can't happen with a gentle nudge adn kind words. Those people only respect strength and fear and their most basic instincts. I'm affraid one would have to first be worst than them to accomplish such goal. To be a shark killing sharks."

He paused again then said "I intend to be that man. I want to. I'll be remembered as a great destroyer but I'll leave a new blank canva with a new sane blueprint for this society behind me. I have money. I'm gaining more and and more power through any means necessary and I believe you could be a valuable... part of my organization. Being my personnal assistant. You'll be under my protection as you'll put your talent at my service. You'll also be in charge of more regullar tasks such as my schedule and so on. You'll profite from my authority and never have to worry about money anymore but, you'll also witness first hand the darkest deeds humanity has to offer, you'll get very littlle sleep and will be allowed very few mistakes as lives will depend on it. If you accept, you'll follow me to my car and into my jet and your job will begin as soon as we reach London. I'll also make sure your grand parent are relocated quietly and/or watched over in case someone would try to reach me by blackmailng you."

He took a look at his smartphone and said "I know this is a lot of information to process and a decision that requires some time to ponder."
He looked at her straight in the eyes and said "you have three minutes to decide."

Sunny came awake slowly. She was vaguely aware of people moving around her, speaking. Her first true awareness of was of her roiling stomach threatening to empty its contents. Then it was her aching head, pounding out a rhythm on her brain. Reluctantly she blinked her eyes open, peering through squinted lashes into the brightness of the room beyond. She rolled her head slightly, and stopped when she saw him.

He moved through the room, sitting down in the chair at the side of her bed. After the last few days the sight of a strange man should have terrified her. But Sunny was Sunny, and even with her rebelling body she instinctively understood this man meant her no harm. So there was no trace of fear in those deep-sea blue eyes that blinked out at him from underneath the tangled mass of blond hair. She didn’t scream. Didn’t run. She simply listened. Her only real visible reaction was how her eyes teared up when he mentioned her grandparents.

His bedside manner needed work. He was brusque and efficient in his words, nothing in his manner or speech reflecting his emotions. But Sunny could sense them anyway. His earnestness, his regret, his anticipation. Truth lent a sweet spice to each sentence he spoke. Whether the words were true or not, HE thought they were true.

And really, what choice did she have? Her grandparents were dead, whether he knew that or not. She had no money, her grandparents had been poor people living off social security. They had homeschooled her and though she was a bright intelligent girl, college had never been encouraged. Her little job at the gas station was nothing that would draw her back. She wondered if her little home even existed anymore. The bastard who had captured her was just as likely to burn it as not. She had always been afraid of using her talent for the wrong thing, but this man was not an evil man. She didn’t get the impression he would use her wrongly, at least not intentionally. And he HAD saved her from a fate worse than death, then promptly offered to free her.

Weren’t there some cultures in the world that believed if a person saved your life, you were in spiritual bondage to that person till the debt had been repaid? Perhaps the people from those cultures were the only ones who could really understand the sheer gratitude that nearly overwhelmed her when she looked on this brisk, cold man. Why would she leave his offered protection and return to nothing but guaranteed danger?

She didn’t take three minutes. She barely took one. Long enough to take a deep breath and sit up in bed, still wearing the faded pink tank top, jeans, and sneakers she had been taken in. Dom had not had any interest in providing more than the barest necessities for his new toy.

“My grandparents are dead. There is no need for you to protect them, but thank you for offering. I accept your second offer. I have nothing to return to.” Her eyes were bleak as she shifted to get out of bed, her stomach rumbling loudly.
“I don’t have any ID for the plane though.”
________________________________________________________

Sunny soon realized the difference between “my jet” and “the jet”. Within two whirlwind hours of crawling out of the bed she had changed into a pair of perfectly fitting charcoal-colored silk slacks and and a loose, billowy white silk top with strappy black sandals. She felt like a different person in the new clothes, brushing her hair into something resembling tameness in the bathroom before following her new boss out into his sleek black limo. Her wide blue eyes took in everything. The silent efficient staff that had produced her new set of clothes, makeup, and hairbrush. The dark silent men with guns in clear sight around the perfectly groomed estate. All of them, she knew instantly, intensely loyal to the man she followed.

The jet itself was breath-taking. Sleek and silver, with a plush luxurious interior. Her boss was on the phone when they entered, but the smiling flight attendant greeted her. She was never asked if she wanted something to eat. The flight attendant must have heard her stomach grumbling, because no sooner was the plane in the air then a delicious bowl of lamb couscous with pine nuts and currants was placed in front of her, with a small cup of hot amber-colored tea and a glass of cold water. When she finished that a tray of baked, gooey brie cheese, tiny rounds of bread, and clusters of fat purple grapes was brought out and placed in front of her.

When her new boss handed her a box full of files with terse instructions to review them on the flight before he returned to yet another phone call, Sunny slipped her feet out of the sandals and curled up crosslegged in her seat. All through the flight she munched and studied.

Sunny had always enjoyed school. The grandparents that homeschooled her did not believe in restricting children. Sunny had started her education in a carefree natural way with many excursions out to view science in action in her backyard, multiple hands on projects scattered throughout the house, and books spilling out from every sunny corner in the home. By the time she was in middle school her own natural sense of competition ensured she stayed well ahead of other children her age when she submitted to the annual testing. Her grandparents had been puzzled at this odd trait coming from their sweet-tempered grand-daughter, but they decided no one was perfect and tolerated her competitiveness. Sunny taught herself to learn, using online games and programs to sharpen her memory and sense of logic.

So as she read and studied, she easily placed names of people with organizations. She quickly saw the connections between the organizations, and learned patterns in the behavior of both law enforcement and criminals. It could, perhaps, be forgiven if a frown occasionally wrinkled her brow, or if a look of uncertainty crept into her eyes from time to time. Because her new boss was holding nothing back. The information she was reading could result in the prosecution of hundreds of powerful men throughout the world. It was both astonishing and disturbing on the deepest level to read about the threads that tied together some of the most powerful, manipulative men and women that lived in the world. Some she had once thought were reasonable, good people….but they were certainly not. Sins of every kind unfolded themselves on paper in front of her, truly revolting deeds that almost always boiled down to one or two things – money and power.

These were the two things these people sought. And it was these people – powerful people that ruled the world both openly and secretly – that her boss sought to bring down.

She read about weapons. Handguns and rifles and automatic rifles. Missiles and tanks and weaponized drones. She read about drugs of every kind, some she had never even heard of. She read about secret military bases, dozens of vicious cartels and mobs scattered throughout the world. And somewhere an hour shy of England’s green shores, she drifted off to sleep with a file of known Russian hitmen open on her lap and a miniscule drop of brie clinging to the corner of her mouth.

When they landed in London, Sunny found herself dispatched with two grim looking discreetly armed bodyguards, a black credit card, and orders to buy a wardrobe. The bewilderment on Sunny’s face when she was given her marching orders resulted in her being placed into the capable hands of her first ever personal shopper. Black credit card in her sweaty palm, Sunny found herself being marched all over London by an overly enthusiastic dark-haired woman who seemed to know every woman’s fashion store in London and determined to drag Sunny through them all.

Sunny was torn between horror at the cost of the garments, and a shopping high from being in London shopping at the swankiest stores. London! Who would have ever thought little Sunny Rayne, the daughter of a drugged out mother and raised by hippie grandparents who regarded money with contempt would be in London! Dropping thousands of dollars on clothes and shoes and bras and panties. Even jewelry! Her favorite had been The Shop at Bluebird, a store that reminded her with a moment of bitter-sweetness of her smiling grandmother, with its eclectic and fun loving décor.

The late afternoon sun was casting shadows over the centuries old city when Sunny was delivered by her unsmiling bodyguards to the doors of the Hotel 41, escorted inside. She fell instantly in love. This was a far cry from the tiny two bedroom one bath bungalow she had grown up in with her grandparents. The only other hotel she had ever been in was a Best Western, and she had considered that the height of luxury. But THIS….this wasn’t even in the same ballpark as the Best Western. From the classic sharp black and white flooring to the dark wood paneled walls, this hotel reeked of exclusiveness and money. She tried not to gape, but the amused glances from her guards told her she had utterly failed. She didn’t really care. The room they took her to was small but luxurious, with a bed that invited her in for a long well-deserved sleep. But sleep would have to wait. The room was full of packages from her shopping trip, and the bodyguards passed on orders she would be meeting Mr. Valsaint for dinner. Whether alone or with associates, she did not know.

She showered, and from her clothes she selected a satin strapless cocktail dress to wear for dinner. It’s dusky emerald green color showed off her blond hair and blue eyes perfectly. She put her hair up in an elegant twisted knot, did her makeup and slipped into some strappy black heels. A glance in the mirror, and she did not even recognize herself. It was a different girl staring back at her, startled at the site of the stranger.

Dear God, what was she doing? Mr. Valsaint was no saint, he was involved in criminal activities that would shock her poor grandparents. And Sunny had promised to help him! How could she, knowing people would get hurt? Of course they were not innocents, and she somehow knew that Mr. Valsaint would avoid innocents getting hurt if he could. But this was a cruel, deadly world she was venturing into. She didn’t understand the rules, didn’t understand the warning signs of danger. She had only Mr. Valsaint to rely on for protection. Had she made the right choice?

It didn’t matter. It was too late to back out now. She was committed…several thousands of dollars of that commitment was scattered around the room in bags and boxes from the best botiques in London.

God help her.

The door swung shut behind her as she smiled at the two bodyguards waiting in the hallway to escort her to dinner with Mr. Valsaint.

Oscar was already waiting for her at the restaurant. While he didn’t go all kingpin on it and reserved the whole place for them only, he still had their table isolated in a private section. This was a reassuring mix of public and private spaces.
He stood up when she arrived and gave her a look of appreciation at her garments.
He, himself, was wearing a black business suit with a stylish mao cut. In front of him, instead of a plate, was a large envelope, no doubt containing something more rigid than simply papers.
“I hope you enjoyed your last days of… normalcy so to speak.” He said before going right to business.
“It’s agood place food wise but I’m afraid we won’t stay long. We can have dessert delivered to us later at night or tomorrow morning. I have a weakness for chocolate things in the early morning. Call it my 2AM indulgence.”
He smiled and gave the ipad in the envelope. “there is a video loaded in. I think it’s important that you watch. It’s not related to tonight’s business though but I believe you can watch something and listen to another, right?”
Of course, this wasn’t really a question and he was about to continue when the waiter arrived with a bottle of red wine. He asked for Oscar to taste it and he approved it saying “no surprises, which is good. Thank you.”
As soon as the waiter was gone, he carried on “so, focusing your attention on two different subjects, yes. Otherwise you wouldn’t be of much use to me… except for your talent but this could get you only so far if I believed you stupid or just… let’s say average. This is as good a transition as any to talk about your functions. You’ll be my personal assistant and overall go to woman. I’ll require your advices, not only on the obvious case of lying/not lying but, giving you access to some sensitive files, I’ll benefit from a different angle than mine. This doesn’t mean I’ll always agree with you. But I’ll listen to you. Your full attention will be to focus on my needs. Me and my organization. My goals.
To perform such task…” he sipped from his glass of wine “…you’ll be granted some privilege to make sure you’re not disturbed and 100% efficient. You’ll get your new mobile phone today, it will have two entries at W. Wendy and Wanda. It’s not their real name and it doesn’t matter, those are the one they’ll respond to. They’ll be your own… assistants. I don’t want to see them. I just want to know you’re using them so I have 100% of your time at my disposal. “ He smiled and lightly joked “it was probably the last time you ever went shopping yourself.”
“You’ll be responsible of what you’re wearing though. For example, while this cocktail dress suits you very well, you knew we had a business meeting after diner and I would have preferred you dressed in a more formal outfit. I’m sure you’ll never make the mistake again.”

As he talked the video went on the screen. It was taking place in a dim lit room but there was little to no secret as to what was going on. A man was being tortured. That man was the one who tore her world apart and killed her grand parents.
While it could have been easy to think Oscar showed her the video as some kind of gesture, allowing her some sweet revenge, there was more to it.
The man wasn’t only being tortured for one’s sick pleasure. Information were given out. Not about himself as Oscar didn’t seem to consider the man a real player, but about contacts and places and rumors he would wish to investigate himself.
This video was making a point. First, however noble Oscar’s goal might be, he was still living in world where reaching them meant playing by some very bloody and dirty rules. It was a sick game played by men willingly wandering off the humanity’s moral compass from time to time.
Two, it was business and hot blooded revenge driven by emotions had no place in it.
Dom Grieve wasn’t tortured for Sunny’s sake. He was tortured because Oscar needed information and to make a point.

Meanwhile, Oscar kept talking “tonight we’re meeting a man named London Johnson. An uninspired name for an American in London as you’ll from his accent when he talks (obvious Sting reference but, hey, you put in some Simon&Garfunkel, so, you know ^_^). But he lived his dream somehow and is the man the establishment will call whenever they need something provided to them… off the books. He has royals in his contacts, as well as pop stars and drug dealers.”
Oscar paused, took an almost imperceptible breath, as if he was sad to say what would follow or getting into the right set of mind, like an actor “he also has a debilitating brother hidden in a sweet loving country family under a false identity. I need to be sure no one else but me knows about it. I need to be sure he’ll do as I say in fear anything happens to his brother and I need to be certain he will not be stupid enough to try and double cross me.”

He leant forward to get her full attention and talke don a lower tone “I need to be sure, if I have to blackmail him or harm his brother, I’m not doing without purpose. I’ve done and I’ll no doubt continue to do some of the worst thing a human being can but I can’t have myself doing them without reason. I am an unforgivable bastard… but turning into a psychopath is a line I don’t want to cross.”
There was something intense in his eyes as he spoke those lines. Something adamant. There was really a line he wouldn’t cross and that line was being, doing things, without reason.
To him, it would mean he had become purely evil. Doing bad things for pleasure instead of some kind of greater good on a very long term scale.

He leaned back and seemed to relax somehow, just like an actor who finished his scene and took a look at his watch. “we’re on schedule but barely. Let’s order. “